


falling head-first without protection

by daiikon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, some touching and groping and the like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daiikon/pseuds/daiikon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco had to go and cannonball their friendship into a frenzied disequilibrium and Jean had the decency to fuck it up to an even more discombobulated degree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling head-first without protection

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I love angsty Marco/Jean, I need some happy moments too. Was aiming for something more fluffy and light-hearted but then it turned awkwardly porn-y. Sorry.

He fucked it up.

Marco had to go and cannonball their friendship into a frenzied disequilibrium and Jean had the decency to fuck it up to an even more discombobulated degree. They're both at fault, Jean surmises, but he figures he could've dealt with the situation more delicately because _fuck_ , he really doesn't know how to fix it anymore.

It started out with a sudden declaration.

"You're my closest friend," Jean had said after a momentary pause, the assertion of the label a meandering rejection to anything less, and anything more. The confession wasn’t sprung out of nowhere (Jean wasn’t stupid – he’d seen the admiring look directed his way more often than not, aware of the light touches that lingered longer than necessary between comrades, had seen first-hand how much brighter that smile grew whenever he sought the other out for company). But _knowing_ and actually _dealing_ with it were two completely different things, so it made sense that Jean was thrown off to such a degree that his usually quick-witted mind needed time to fully realize what he was dreading to eventually confront was happening right here, right now. When Jean had managed to find his voice, he found it incredible how he was able to talk without choking on his words. "This..this doesn't change anything though, so don’t worry."

Marco took it all in stride. No tears, no breakdowns – just a curt nod and a knowing smile because Marco had expected as much. In the past Jean had attempted to push away from him various times before, created invisible lines and boundaries, build barriers to keep Marco’s growing fondness at bay, but the method came to bite him in the ass when he started to miss their daily stargazing at night, to have someone to talk to when he was restless and couldn’t sleep, and in all honesty he knew that he couldn’t keep up the weak-hearted attempt at being distant and cold when he found himself missing Marco’s presence just as much (perhaps even more) as he wanted to avoid him.

They went back to square one and Jean pretended not to notice it instead.

Obviously he knew that he wouldn’t be able to dodge the inevitable by going about it like this, no, definitely not like this. Not when Jean ends up letting his guard down when the other is around, when he finds himself spending even more time with Marco than he would have imagined, and it became unsettling when he’s aware that he wasn’t opposed to these feelings as much as he should have. When the confession came, he didn’t have the heart to push Marco completely away either and that in itself was as selfish as he could get. Jean tried not to think about _why_ , though. It was easier for the both of them – _for him_ – if he didn’t.

_("I – I love you, Jean. I love you and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”)_

Or that was how it should've been, but of course things could never be that simple because he thinks about it, and thinks about it, and thinks about it.

It's the little things that he messes up on first – how Jean subconsciously sits a bit further when they're together, how he slightly flinches when they accidentally touch. He doesn't mean to, honest to God, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't bothered by it. He couldn’t think properly anymore, and maybe the problem was because he was thinking _too_ much that he became incapable of rationalising how he really felt about these – these _feelings_ , whatever they were, clawing him from the inside out like some sort of rabid beast.

Surprisingly, what bothered him the most, however, was when Marco refused to look him in the eye anymore.

There was a misunderstanding. Definitely a misunderstanding, and it would have been the best – ideal even – if Jean just left it like that, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to.

So, Jean took matters into his own hands.

There had been several days of denial and internal antagonizing and more denial before finally, acceptance. It took that, and a sheer amount of blind impulse to follow through with what he had in mind. But good plan or not Jean had dived into the deep end head-first with nothing to serve as a credible lifeline, and even then it wasn't like he could back out now with the way things were rapidly escalating. He's pressed against a wall in a storage room he's not supposed to be in, with nimble fingers tentatively running across his abdomen and up his chest, a hot mouth nipping and sucking gently at his earlobe and down his exposed neck. He's making sounds that were too embarrassing to register, but it was difficult to keep himself in check like this, to stop the undignified moans from resonating at the back of his throat when there's a knee pressing against his groin while the rest of his body was being fondled and teased. Marco pulls back slightly and looks at him all flushed and breathy and _wanting_. Jean parts his lips as he gets pulled into long wet kisses, all loving and slow in the only way Marco knows how.

They're both relatively unskilled, not really sure on the proper mannerisms of touching or feeling up another partner, but perhaps that wasn’t the most important thing to care for. They decided to go with the flow, allowing emotions and hormones to guide their actions instead.

So, Marco touches him. He touches him like this was going to be the only chance he'll ever get to hold the other so close in his arms, to feel the rapid beating of Jean's heart against his own pounding chest, to feel the other's shaky intake of breath as he pulls away to lick a thin strip across glossy wet lips, only to envelop them into another desperate kiss.

All this touching was making Jean writhe and it was getting harder and harder to ignore the growing arousal in his pants. Jean fights the urge to create more friction by rubbing his hard-on against Marco's blasted leg between his thighs, desperately wanting to get off and come to a finish, but Marco seems the type to take his time and _hell_ if Jean was going to be subdued like this.

Not wanting to lose – (at what, he'll rationalize later) Jean purposefully moves his hand down Marco's back and gropes the other's ass, liking the small squeak that was drowned in the midst of one of their kisses.

Marco gets the hint at the other’s impatience and slides his hand lower and lower until he’s tugging at the rim of Jean’s pants, asking – whispering hoarsely, “Can I?” with hazy eyes and a beautiful smile and Jean couldn’t do anything but nod to that. There were still remnants of wariness and guardedness on his part. But by the time Marco has his hand wrapped around Jean’s cock, pumping him and tugging in firm, languid strokes, Jean found himself too busy groaning out strangled _more, please yes’s_ to give a damn.

Jean couldn’t focus on anything with his mind swimming like this, pleasure freely spilling as deft fingers squeezes in all the right areas, trembling helplessly when a teasing thumb rubs and presses down hard at the swollen tip and Jean tries so hard to keep his hips from bucking but it feels so _good good good_.

Marco continues to pepper gentle kisses along Jean’s shoulder while he jerks him off, taking delight in the lovely mewls accompanying each yank with the flick of his wrist. He ignores his own erection hanging heavy and hot between his legs in favour of pleasuring the other, all until Jean couldn’t take it anymore before coming into his hand with a pleasant shudder and the softest moan, clutching onto Marco’s arms as he did so.

When the high finally died down and he slowly rides out the last of his orgasm, Jean burrows his flushed face in the crook of Marco's shoulder and is quiet when the other wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him close in a loving embrace.

It feels nice, Jean doesn't say, and deep down he thinks that maybe there wasn't a need to fix anything in their relationship after all.

He could live with this, really.

What he does need, though, is some sort of manual for these types of situations because Jean is somewhat at a loss on what to do next. He takes a moment to contemplate his options. Well at this point, Marco had already declared himself to him so it was only fair that he should also announce his side of the confession too, right?

"Your boner is jabbing my hip," Jean blurts out eloquently.

Okay so he's a wimp, a total wimp.

"Jean, please shut up and let me savour this moment." Marco murmurs, but he steps back anyways because he was annoyingly considerate like that.

Jean snickered before he leans in to bump their foreheads together, resting a hand at the back of the other's neck. "Idiot," Jean says, noticing the tinge of pink across (cute, really cute) freckles. "There'll be more moments to fawn over, so quit being such a sap." Jean then blushes an interesting shade of red himself and quickly utters, "So, um, let's take care of your problem down there first, yeah?"

Marco feels his heart jump at the promises of more, of his once hopeless _maybes_ and _whatifs_ coming true like a blissful dream – and Jean, pinching Marco’s cheek to assure him that this wasn’t some figment of his imagination, gets so adorably flustered when he tells him so that Marco couldn’t help pulling him in for another sweet, sweet kiss.


End file.
